


I need you to trust that I'm lost

by cursingcursive (queenradi)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Life Affirming Sex, M/M, Oops, PWP, Praise Kink, Season 11 Spoilers, i guess, this is so late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenradi/pseuds/cursingcursive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world always stops spinning when Spencer speaks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>(Morgan needs reassurance, and Reid gives it to him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I need you to trust that I'm lost

**Author's Note:**

> this is, like, three weeks late, but whatever. enjoy it anyway.
> 
> special thanks to my group chat. you know who you are. title from troye sivan's song "touch"
> 
> [my tumblr](http://triangleangel.tumblr.com/)

Morgan’s hands are shaking. There’s this… _thing_ , in his chest, this thing that isn’t quite panic but is so damn close that he can taste it. He spent years on the Bomb Squad and that feeling stopped hanging around within a month of being on the job, but now it’s back in full swing. He feels like a rookie that just went through his first big scare.

Except, the fear pushing down on his senses isn’t because of how close he was to losing his own life. That isn’t it, not at all. If it was just him, he’d be okay now. Hell, if it was just him and Rossi, he’d be okay. But because _Reid_ was there, because Reid was so damn close to—

The hotel room door slams shut. The thing in Morgan’s chest quiets just long enough for him to register that Reid is standing in front of him, and then it rears up again when he sees that Reid is shaking, too.

The room is thick with tension. Reid’s eyes are wide. Morgan can’t breathe; it’s all getting stuck in his throat, and it doesn’t matter that much anyway when he crosses the room and kisses Reid so hard that their teeth clack against each other.

“Derek, what—” Spencer’s hands flap around uselessly before settling on Derek’s shoulders. They keep kissing, most of the desperation coming from Derek, but Spencer starts to match it.

“Sorry.” Derek slides his hands underneath Spencer’s shirt. His eyes are closed, but he knows that Spencer’s frowning at him, worried. He can feel Spencer’s lips pouting against his, also worried. “It was just—”

“I know,” Spencer breathes. They’re both shaking. Derek wishes he were stronger than this, stronger than breaking down every time his boyfriend comes even close to getting hurt. He wishes he didn’t do… _this_ , every time, this awful, awful game of “let me make sure you’re still with me”. He wishes the panic would stop swelling in his chest every time Spencer wanders too far from his side.

Spencer’s skin his hot under his hands, and goosebumps follow his fingertips when he runs them over Spencer’s ribs. They’re not kissing, not really. Their mouths brush and press and part, but their breathing mixes more than their lips touch.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks. He’s rubbing Derek’s shoulders and stroking the back of his neck.

Derek practically melts against him. He can feel some of the tension in his muscles disappearing with every press of Spencer’s hands, and his chest feels less and less tight the longer he clings to Spencer’s ribs, his heartbeat pulsing steadily under his hands. “I’m getting there.” He noses at Spencer’s neck. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” Spencer kisses Derek’s ear and the world stops spinning. “What do you need?”

His hands slide down, down to hook on the waistband of Spencer’s pants, enough to tug but not reveal. He kisses Spencer’s neck gently, sucking on his collarbone and praying that he won’t have to say anything. The wrong words would come out.

Spencer pulls Derek’s hands from his waist. Derek isn’t surprised to see that neither of them can control the tremors. “Okay,” Spencer says. His voice is soft. Derek wants to fall into him and never, ever leave him. “Okay, come here.”

He kisses Derek once, twice, a third time on his jaw, before roughly pushing him backwards into the room. They stumble over each other, suddenly rushing to prove that their pulses are meant to be shared and this is the only way they know how to do it. Derek fights to keep Spencer close, hooks his hand on the back of his neck and bites his lip to discourage him slipping away.

Derek lets out a sigh when he falls back on the bed. Spencer climbs over him, thighs bracketing his hips, hair falling in his face when he leans down and kisses him. The desperation is tangible; unmistakable in the way Spencer bites his bottom lip and licks into his mouth. Derek matches the urgency blow for blow. His hands scrabble at Spencer’s hips and the buttons on his shirt, almost tearing them in his hurry to get it off.

“In an ideal world,” Spencer says, panting, “we would never leave this room.” Derek undoes the last button. Their hands bump while they shove the shirt away. “But logic is a bitch—” Derek shoves a hand down the front of Spencer’s slacks and sucks hard on his neck. Spencer whines. “— logic is a _bitch_ , and we only have—”

Derek tightens his grip on Spencer’s half-hard cock. He swallows the moan that spills from Spencer’s lips. “Stop talking, pretty boy,” he says. His hand tightens on Spencer’s ass and shoves their hips together. They both gasp at the sudden friction. Heat floods Derek’s body.

Cold hands are suddenly touching his stomach, sliding up and pulling the shirt from his chest. He sits up, still kissing Spencer so hard his head spins, and Spencer yanks the shirt from him. They fall back on the bed, groaning against each other.

Spencer’s hips stutter in his rhythm with Derek’s. Derek pulls on his cock, eventually pushes Spencer’s pants down enough to jack him off for real.

“I’m gonna—” Spencer warns. His eyebrows are furrowed, lips parted and bitten red. Derek knows he’ll never see anything more beautiful.

“Not yet,” he urges. His hand slows. Spencer whines and bucks against him, arms shaking where they’re braced on the bed by Derek’s head.

“Fuck, Derek…” Spencer hangs his head and bites Derek’s collarbone.

“Can I fuck you?” Derek asks. His whole body is burning. His cock is practically aching where it’s straining in his jeans. He feels ready to burst, but he wants this to last.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Spencer snaps. He lifts his head and rocks their hips together again. Derek groans and grabs his waist. “Hurry up, I’m—”

“I know, baby…” Derek rolls them over so Spencer’s on his back and he’s leaning over him, between his thighs and kissing him quiet. Hands knock together and swears fall from lips while they both struggle to push their pants down and off, but when they’re finally _finally_ naked it’s easier to breathe.

Spencer’s soft and warm and making quiet little noises underneath Derek. When their cocks slide together they both groan, and Spencer’s head tips back. His neck is bared, smooth and pale, and his lips are shiny and his hair messy and sweaty and Derek can see his pulse fluttering under his jaw. Derek fights a whine and kisses him there, kisses and kisses and fucks his hips against Spencer and feels the heartbeat that means his boy is okay.

“Derek,” Spencer mumbles. His hands grip Derek’s shoulders, nails scratching at the skin. “Derek, please, hurry up…”

He doesn’t want to move from his spot tucked away in Spencer’s neck, but he sits up long enough to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand.

When he’s back between Spencer’s thighs and the heat from their bodies is mixing indistinguishably, there’s a moment where all Derek does is breathe. He presses a shaking hand to Spencer’s throat and ducks down to breathe against his chest. Spencer’s hands cradle the back of his head. Warmth washes over him, sears through his veins and reminds him that they’re okay.

Spencer’s heartbeat flutters against Derek’s fingers. He can feel him swallow thickly, throat bobbing, and knows that he’s waited long enough. They both have.

The lube is cold on Derek’s fingers, but everything else is so hot that it goes unnoticed by both of them. He keeps his hand at Spencer’s neck; wants to feel him gasp and whine when his fingers push in, and that’s exactly what happens.

“Derek,” Spencer moans, breathy and light. His eyes fall shut.

Derek fights back a whine and bites at Spencer’s shoulders. His fingers twist inside him. The hand on his throat tightens for an instant, and moans rip from both of them when Derek rocks their hips together roughly.

“Hurry up,” Spencer says. Derek’s throat goes dry. Spencer rolls his hips up against Derek’s cock and then down on his fingers. His hands slide from his head to grab his jaw, and then haul him in for an open-mouthed kiss that’s mostly teeth.

The room feels thick and heavy, and Derek almost doesn’t hear himself groan into Spencer’s mouth. He pushes his fingers up and in one more time, just to hear Spencer whine sharply, before pulling them out.

Teeth knock together when Spencer reaches between them and grabs Derek’s dick. They both gasp; Derek pushes his thumb under Spencer’s jaw and bites his lip.

“Fuck me,” Spencer growls.

Derek’s head spins. He’s pretty sure he’s still shaking, but the panic in his chest is almost gone. He grabs harshly at Spencer’s thighs, spreads them enough to press the head of his cock at Spencer’s ass.

“Come on,” Spencer whispers. One of his hands splays low on Derek’s back. He pets gently at the skin, small touches that burn and calm all at once.

Hardly a second passes while Derek fumbles to slick up his cock. His forehead falls to Spencer’s chest. He can hear Spencer’s pulse, feel it echoing in his mind, and it’s almost like it anchors him. He breathes with it, strokes his hands down Spencer’s ribs and tells himself _they’re okay, Spencer’s okay, and nothing will happen._

Spencer’s fingers dig into his back and Derek shudders. He pushes into him slowly, biting his lip and shutting his eyes. The heat intensifies, swallows him up and consumes him from the inside out. Spencer arches under him, sighing and whispering nonsense—

“Perfect, perfect, _God baby_ , right there—”

His arms are shaking. He hasn’t stopped shaking, he realizes, since they walked away from that fucking explosion. The shaking is in his fucking blood, and it won’t go away until—

“ _Derek_.”

His hips snap forward.

The scolding dies on Spencer’s tongue. A small sense of pride flickers to life in Derek’s chest, turns into a flame when he keeps rocking into Spencer and moans fall from his lips like gold.

The world has been out of focus for hours, but now everything that isn’t Spencer blurs beyond recognition. Derek keeps fucking into Spencer, keeps biting his throat and tasting his pulse. Spencer keeps sighing sharply, keeps scratching down Derek’s back and singing praises into his ear. Their bodies burn where they touch. Derek never wants to leave, wants to keep this moment inside him, push it against his heart and feel it every time he breathes.

There’s never been anything more important than keeping Spencer with him.

“Harder,” Spencer whines. His ankles hook at the small of Derek’s back, urging him deeper. “Please, come on baby, harder…” His neck arches up, mouth tipping open. He’s spectacular.

Derek grips the backs of his knees and pushes his legs wide. Whines are ripped from both of them when Derek thrusts forward. Sparks ripple down his spine; it’s so _good_ , Spencer is so _good_ , and now the shaking isn’t from fear or the need to reassure himself, now it’s because Spencer’s kissing his jaw and clawing his shoulders, now it’s the drag of his cock in Spencer’s body and the slide of their sweat-slicked skin. Now he’s trembling everywhere because of the noises Spencer is breathing into his throat, because he keeps arching up and rubbing his hard and dripping dick over Derek’s abs.

Now it’s because he’s overflowing with a lot of things, and the most prominent one is violently tugging at him. _I love you_ collects behind his teeth and almost trips out of his mouth.

It’s lost when he kisses Spencer and closes a hand over his neck. The pressure isn’t there, but when Spencer grabs Derek’s hips and arches sharply, the column of his throat is pressed against Derek’s palm. His heartbeat thunders against Derek, interrupted by his stuttering breathing.

“Good,” he gasps.

Derek kisses his mouth and fights a whine. “Yeah?”

“ _Yes_.”

His grip on Spencer’s thigh is slipping, but it doesn’t much matter when they’re both so close to coming.

“So close, baby,” Spencer tells him. Their foreheads touch, bodies rocking together and breathing hitching at the same time. Derek opens his eyes and takes in the flush on Spencer’s cheeks, the brightness in his expression, the pure _openness_ in his face while he offers himself up. The grip Spencer has on his hips tightens. Derek’s thrusts falter; heat gathers at the base of his spine. He grits his teeth. His nails dig into Spencer’s thigh.

“Spencer,” he gasps. He removes his hand from Spencer’s throat and wraps it around his cock, pulling in harsh strokes that match the rhythm of his hips. Spencer writhes beneath him, eyes screwing shut and head tipping back.

“Come on,” Spencer urges breathlessly. He cups Derek’s jaw and blindly pulls him in for a kiss. Derek crashes into him, whimpers when teeth scrape his lip and thumbs stroke his cheeks.

It feels like the panic in his chest is back, fragile and cracking and just on the right side of too much. He can feel it in his ribcage, rattling and burning and forcing him closer to—

“ _Derek_ —”

Spencer moans brokenly when he comes. His whole body tightens, arching and spilling out beneath Derek beautifully. Derek bites his neck and feels his heart pound wildly, shuts his eyes and lets the sound of it fill him while his hips snap forward once, twice, three times before—

The blur of the world becomes fuzzy and grey. Derek collapses onto Spencer’s chest, his head pillowed over his heart, arms draped sloppily over Spencer’s. Their breathing is the only noise in the room, the only thing keeping Derek from falling asleep.

Spencer’s heartbeat, Spencer’s breathing, the soft touch of Spencer’s fingers on his shoulders… All of it grounds him, yanks him out of the shaking corner of his mind he’d been locked away in. Derek swallows the taste of concern and lets the taste of Spencer being alive fill him, instead.

Minutes pass. “Are you okay?” Spencer presses his thumb to Derek’s bottom lip when he says it.

Derek nods slowly. He opens his eyes long enough to know that the clock on the nightstand says 2:24 am. He sighs, the warmth of his breath washing over Spencer’s collarbone.

“Look at me.” Spencer tilts his head up. His fingers brush Derek’s eyelids gently, prompting him to open them again. Spencer’s shadowed, but the lines of his face, the red of his lips and cheeks, are visible. “We’re okay,” he promises. The words hold so much weight. Derek can’t fathom it, not like this.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then he remembers—

_I love you_ is still hidden under his tongue.

He closes his mouth. Closes his eyes, lets his head rest on Spencer’s heart once more. He reaches up and pulls Spencer’s hand from his face, tangles their fingers and places them back on the mattress beside them.

Spencer shifts carefully beneath him, snuggling into the duvet that’s suddenly pulled over them both.

The world blurs; not with panic, but sleep. Derek breathes in time with Spencer’s heartbeat.

_I love you._

The world spins.

He breathes in—

_I_ —

“Love you.”

The world always stops spinning when Spencer speaks.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> the first episode of season 11 fucked me up and this is my coping mechanism. 
> 
> it's also a little gift, because I'm working on a massive fic that will come later and I hope this holds all of you over :)


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